OVID: "METAMORPHOSES": BOOK XII

Introduction:

For an introduction to Ovid and the work as a whole, the reader, is invited to look at the introduction to the translation of "Metamorphoses" Book I, published on this blog on 1st February 2018. 

Book XII sees the commencement of the final quarter of the work, which features the move from myth to history, or at least what the ancient Romans might have considered history, describing as it does incidents involving the Trojan War, the exploits of Achilles and the battle between the Lapiths and the Centaurs. The Book includes the following stories: Iphigenia at Aulis; the house of Rumour; the transformation of Cycnus; how Caenis becomes Caeneus; the battle of the Lapiths and Centaurs, and details of the many participants in this epic struggle; Cyllarus and Hylonome; the transformation of Caeneus; Nestor's feud with Hercules; the death of Achilles. 

Much of this book, lines 169-535 and 542-576 to be exact, is recounted in the voice of Nestor, King of Pylos, and the sage of the Greek host before Troy.

Ll. 1-38.  Iphigenia at Aulis.

His father, Priam, mourned Aesacus, not knowing that he was (still) alive, having taken on wings; Hector, with his brothers, had offered empty sacrifices at the tomb which also bore his name. The presence of Paris was missing from this sad ceremony, (he) who was shortly to bring a lengthy war upon his homeland, because of the wife he had stolen (i.e. Helen); a thousand ships of the Pelasgian  (i.e. Greek or Hellenic) race pursue (him), having taken a joint oath together. Nor would vengeance have been delayed, had not the fierce winds made the seas unnavigable and (had not) the land of Boeotia detained the departing ships at fish-laden Aulis. After they had provided sacrificial offerings to Jupiter there, in accordance with ancestral custom, (and,) when the ancient altar was glowing with kindled fires, the Danaans (i.e. the Greeks) saw a dark-green snake slither into a plane-tree, which stood near their sacrifices. There was a nest with eight (young) birds on the crest of the tree: these the serpent seized and buried in its eager jaws, together with their mother, as she was fluttering around her condemned (fledglings). They were all amazed; but the son of Thestor (i.e. Calchas), the seer, foreseeing the truth, says, "We shall conquer! Rejoice, Pelasgians! Troy will fall, but our labours will last for a long time," and he interprets the nine birds as nine years of war. It was turned into stone, just as it was, twined around the green branches of the tree, and it preserves its shape as a serpent (in) the stone.  

The North Wind continues (to blow) violently in Aonian (i.e. Boeotian) waters, and refuses to transport the war(-ships), and there are (some) who believe that Neptune is sparing Troy, because he built the city's walls; but not the son of Thestor (i.e. Calchas): for he was not unaware, nor did he withhold (from them), that that the wrath of the virgin goddess (i.e. Diana) could be appeased by the blood of a virgin. When the common cause had triumphed over family affection and the king over the father (i.e. Agamemnon, High-King of Mycenae), and Iphigenia stood, among her weeping attendants, before the altar, the goddess was overcome, and cast a cloud before their eyes, and, amidst the ceremony and the disturbance of the sacrificial rites, and the cries of the suppliants, it is said that she exchanged the Mycenean (girl) for a hind, (which had been) substituted (for her). So, when Diana has been appeased by the sacrifice which was required and the wrath of the sea has subsided at the same time as (that) of Phoebe (i.e. Diana), the thousand ships receive tail winds, and, after enduring many (adventures), they attain the the shores of Phrygia (i.e. the land around Troy).

Ll. 39-63.  The house of Rumour.

There is a place at the centre of the World, between the land and the sea and the zones of the heavens, the common boundary of this triple universe; from there, whatever is anywhere is seen, even if it is in regions faraway, and every voice reaches hollow ears: Rumour occupies (this place), and has chosen a house for herself on the top of a mountain-stronghold, and has added numerous entrances and countless openings to her place of residence, nor did she bar the threshold by any doors; it is open night and day: it is all of sounding brass, everything resounds (with noises), and echoes voices and reiterates what it hears; (there is) no peace within, and no silence anywhere, and yet there is no loud noise, but (only) the murmur of tiny voices, like those that are wont to come from the waves of the sea, if anyone can hear (them), or like the sound that distant thunder makes, when Jupiter has caused the dark clouds to rumble. Crowds occupy the hallways: a fickle populace comes and goes, and mingling fiction with the truth at random, a thousand rumours wander about, and confused words tumble around; of these, some fill their idle ears with chatter, others bear elsewhere (what they have been) told, and the amount of fiction grows (apace), and (each) new author adds something to (what he has) heard. There is credulity, there rash Error, and empty Joys and alarmed Fears, and sudden Sedition, and Whispers of doubtful authority; (Rumour,) herself, sees what things are being done in the heavens, and on the sea, and on the earth, and inquires about everything in the universe.

Ll. 64-145.  The death and transformation of Cycnus.

She (i.e. the goddess Rumour) had spread the news that the Greek ships were approaching, (filled) with valiant troops, nor (was it) unexpected that the enemy were in arms nearby: the Trojans oppose their landing and defend their shores, and you, Protesilaüs, are the first to fall beneath Hector's deadly spear, and joining battle costs the Danaans dearly, and brave-spirited Hector (can be) recognised due to  the slaughter (around him). The Phrygians (i.e. the Trojans) learned at no small (expense of) blood (just) what an Achaean right(-hand) was capable of, and now the Sigean shores (i.e. the Sigean promontory to the west of the Bay of Troy) ran red, now Neptune's son, Cycnus, had consigned countless men to their death, now Achilles urged on his chariot, and laid low whole columns (of men) with a blow of his spear, and, (while) searching through the midst of the battle-lines for either Cycnus or Hector, he comes upon Cycnus - (his meeting with) Hector was postponed for ten years: then, exhorting his horses, and constraining their snowy-white necks with their harness, he steered his chariot right at the enemy, and, shaking his quivering spear with all his strength, he said, "O young man, take solace in your death in that you were slain by Haemonian (i.e. Thessalian) Achilles!" Thus (spoke) the grandson of Aeacus (i.e. Achilles): his weighty spear followed his words, but, although there was definitely no error in (the flight of) his spear, still he made no impact with the sharp point of the iron missile (he had) hurled, and only bruised his chest, as with the blow of a blunt (weapon).

"(O) Son of the goddess, for I have learned of you already because of your reputation," he (i.e. Cycnus) replies, why are you amazed that I have no wound? - for he was (indeed) amazed. Neither this helmet, which you see, with its tawny horse-hair crest, nor this burden of a hollow shield on my left(-arm), are of help to me: decoration (only) is obtained from those (things); Mars is also accustomed to wear armour for this (reason)! Let the courtesy of this protective covering be removed: yet I shall depart (from you) unhurt; it is (worth) something to be the son, not of Nereus' daughter (i.e. Thetis), but of him (i.e. Neptune) who rules Nereus and his daughters, and the whole of the ocean (as well).

He spoke, and hurled his spear at the grandson of Aeacus (i.e. Achilles), and, destined (as it was) to stick fast in the round of his shield, it tore right through the bronze and nine (layers) of bull's hide, but was stopped by a tenth layer. The hero shakes it out, and again flung a quivering spear from his vigorous hand: once again (his enemy's) body was whole and without a wound; nor could a third spear graze Cycnus, even though he laid himself open (to it). He (i.e. Achilles) flared up, just like a bull in an open circus charges, with its fearful horns at the bright-red cloak that has provoked it, and finds that it has escaped damage; he examines the spear's metal-tip (to see) whether it has fallen off: it was (still) stuck firmly to the wooden (shaft). "So," he says, "is my hand weak, and is the strength, which it had previously, (now) exhausted in relation to this one (man)? For it was certainly strong, when I was the first to throw down the walls of Lyrnessus (i.e. a city in the Troad), or when I drenched Tenedos (i.e. an Aegean island close to the Trojan coast), and Eetion's Thebes (i.e. a city in Mysia, ruled by Eetion, the father of Hector's wife, Andromache) in their own blood, or when the Caïcus (i.e. a river in Mysia) ran red with the slaughter of its native people, and (when) Telephus (i.e. Hercules' son and king of Mysia) twice felt the effect of my spear (i.e. he was first wounded and then healed by its touch). Here also, when so many have been slain, and I have caused, and can see, the heaps of their (bodies lying) on the shore, my right(-hand) has proved its strength, and it will continue to be strong."

He spoke, and, as if he could scarcely believe (what had) happened previously, he hurled a spear straight at Menoetes, (a warrior) from the people of Lycia, and it tore through his breastplate and the breast lying beneath (it) at the same time. With the dying (man) beating his head on the solid ground, he (i.e. Achilles) wrenched that spear from the warm wound, and says: "This is the hand, (and) this (is) the spear, by means of which I have just conquered: I shall (now) use the same (things) against this (man) (i.e. Cycnus); I pray that the result may be the same in his (case)!"

So speaking, he attacked Cycnus again, nor did the ashen-spear err (in its aim), but thudded unavoidably into his left shoulder, from where it rebounded as though from a wall or a solid (piece of) rock; Achilles saw that Cycnus (was) stained with blood (in the place) where he had been struck, and he rejoiced in vain: (for) there was no wound, (as) it was Menoetes' blood! Then, indeed, he roars (with rage) and leaps headlong from his tall chariot, and, making for his fearless foe at close quarters with his gleaming blade, he sees that his shield and his helmet are pierced by his sword, but that the iron is still blunted by his impenetrable body.

He (i.e. Achilles) could not bear (it) any longer, and beats three or four times at the face and the hollow temples of the man in front of (him) with his drawn back shield and the hilt of his sword, and, following (him) as he retreats, he is hard on his heels, and harries (him) and rushes at (him), and denies the shocked (man) any respite: fear takes hold of him, and shadows float before his eyes, and, as he moves backwards, a boulder in the midst of the field obstructs his retreating steps. As he is trapped on top of (it) with his body bent back, Achilles turns Cycnus over with great force, and flings (him) to the ground. Then, pressing his shield and his hard knees into his midriff, he tugs the straps of his helmet: these, having been placed tightly beneath his chin, squeeze both his throat and his windpipe and rob (him) of his breath. He (i.e. Achilles) was preparing to strip the defeated (man), (when) he sees his abandoned armour; (for) the god of the sea (i.e. Neptune) has transformed his body into a white bird, whose name he held just a moment ago (i.e. cycnus, the swan).

 Ll. 146-209.  Nestor tells the story of Caeneus / Caenis.

This effort, this battle brought about a truce of many days (duration), and both sided laid down their arms and stopped (fighting). While an alert guard keeps watch on the Phrygian (i.e Trojan) walls, and an alert guard patrols the Argive (i.e. Greek) trenches, a feast day arrived, on which Achilles, the conqueror of Cycnus, propitiated Pallas (i.e. Athene) with the blood of a sacrificial heifer; but, when he had laid its entrails on the burning altar, and its odour, pleasing to the gods had gone up into the sky, the holy (beings) received their (due), (while) the remaining part was laid out on tables. The chiefs reclined on couches and they fill their bodied with roasted meat, and they quench their thirst and (relieve) their cares with wine. Neither (the sound) of the lyre, nor their own singing voices, nor the long flute (made) of boxwood pierced with many holes, delights them, but they extend the night with talk, and courage is the substance of their conversation: they talk of battles, both their enemy's and their own, and it pleases (them) to recount in turn the dangers they have (so) often undergone and endured; for what (else) should Achilles speak of, or what else should they speak of in the presence of the mighty Achilles? His most recent victory over the conquered Cycnus was, especially, the subject of their discussion: it seemed incredible to all of them that a warrior should have a body that no spear could penetrate, that was impervious to any wound, and which could blunt an iron sword. 

The grandson of Aeacus (i.e. Achilles), himself, and (all) the Achaeans (i.e. Greeks) were marvelling at this, when Nestor speaks as follows: "In your time, Cycnus has been unique in being scornful of the sword and invulnerable to its blow. But, a long time ago, I myself saw Perrhaebian (i.e. Thessalian) Caeneus suffer a thousand strokes on an undamaged body, Perrhaebian Caeneus, who, renowned for his exploits, dwelt on (Mount) Othrys (i.e. a mountain in Thessaly), and, what was (all) the more remarkable about him, he was born a woman." All who were there were moved by this strange wonder, and asked (him) to tell his story: among them, Achilles (says): "Go on, do tell (us)! for we all have the same wish to hear, O (you) eloquent old man, (and) the wisdom of our age, who Caeneus was, why (he was) changed to the opposite (sex), and in which campaign and in the struggle of which battle (he became) known to you, (and) by whom he was overcome, if (indeed) he was overcome by anyone."

Then, the old man (says): "Although the slowness of old age hampers me, and many (things which I) beheld in my early years escape my (memory), yet I do remember (many) more. And there is nothing, amongst all those actions in war and at home, which sticks more in my mind (than this). And, if an extensive old age has enabled any witness of many deeds to render an account (of them), I have lived for two hundred years; now I am living in my third century.

"Elatus' daughter, Caenis, the most beautiful maiden among the Thessalians, was renowned for her beauty, and was longed for in vain by a host of suitors throughout the neighbouring cities and your own - for she was from your people, Achilles. Perhaps, Peleus (i.e. Achilles' father), too, would have attempted to (make) such a marriage, but the marriage of your mother (i.e. Thetis) to him had already happened, or she had been promised (to him). But Caenis did not accept marriage to any (of these suitors), but - so the story went - as she was walking along a lonely shore, she suffered the violence of (i.e. she was ravished by) the god of the sea, and, when Neptune had tasted the joys of his new love, he said, 'You may make your wishes (known) without fear of refusal: choose whatever you desire!' - the same story told this too. Caenis replies: 'This injury gives (me) the great desire to be able to suffer nothing like this ever again; grant that I may not be a woman: (if so,) you will have granted (me) everything (I need).' She spoke her last words words in a deeper tone, and her voice could have seemed (to be) that of a man, and so it was; for the god of the deep sea had already assented to her prayer, and had granted in addition that she could not be hurt by any wounds or fall to any sword. The son of Atrax (i.e. Caeneus, who came from Atrax, a town in Thessaly on the River Peneus) departs, delighted with his gifts, and spends his time in manly pursuits, while he roams the fields of the Peneus.

Ll. 210-244. The battle of the Lapiths and the Centaurs. 

"The son of bold Ixion (i.e. Pirithoüs) had married Hippodame, and had invited the uncultivated cloud-born (centaurs) (i.e. creatures that were half-men / half-horse) to recline at tables set in line in a grotto shaded by trees. The Haemonian (i.e. Thessalian) chiefs were there, and I, myself, was there, and the palace, in festive array, resounded with the noisy crowd. See, they are singing the nuptial hymn, and the great hall is smoking with fires, and in comes the virgin, conspicuous in her beauty, escorted by a throng of mothers and young wives; we declared Pirithoüs blessed in his bride, (an action by) which we almost betrayed the (good) omen (of the wedding). 

"For Eurytus, (you) most savage of the savage Centaurs, your heart is inflamed as much by the sight of the maiden as by the wine, and drunkenness, twinned with lust, rules (it). At once, the tables are overturned, and the banquet is in turmoil, and the new bride is seized by the hair and dragged away by force. Eurytus takes Hippodame, the others whomever they like the look of, or could (get hold of), and the scene was (like that) of a captured city. The palace resounds with the cries of women: immediately we all leap up, and Theseus first cries out, 'What folly is driving you, Eurytus, that you should provoke Pirithoüs, while I am alive (and well), and, unknowingly, assault the two (of us) in one?' Lest he should have spoken these (words) in vain, the great-hearted hero thrusts aside (those) opposing (him) and rescues the plundered girl. His (adversary says) nothing in reply - for he cannot defend those actions of his with words - but attacks her champion's face with violent hands, and strikes at his noble chest. There happened to be nearby an ancient mixing-bowl, (its surface) rough with embossed designs; the son of Aegeus (i.e. Theseus) lifted this enormous thing up, (he) himself (being even) bigger, and hurled it straight at his face: he falls backwards, spewing gouts of blood, together with brain and wine from his wound and mouth, and kicks the (blood-)soaked sand. His twin-membered brothers are infuriated by his killing, and they all compete (with one another) to cry out with one voice, '(To) arms! (To) arms!' Wine gave (them) courage, and, in the initial battle, cups, and fragile jars, and well-rounded cauldrons are sent flying (through the air), things once intended for feasts, (but) now (being used for) fighting and killing. 

Ll. 245-289.  The deaths of Amycus, Gryneus and Cometes. 

"First, Amycus, son of Ophion, was not afraid to despoil the inner sanctuary of its gifts, and firstly snatched from the shrine a candelabrum full of glittering lamps, and, raising (it) on high, like (one) who wields a sacrificial axe to break the bull's snow-white neck, he dashed (it) at the forehead of Celadon the Lapith (i.e. a member of an ancient tribe of South-West Thessaly), and leaves the bones in his face so crushed that he could not be recognised. His eyes leapt out (of their sockets), the bones of his face (were) shattered, and his nose (was) driven back and lodged in the midst of his throat. Wrenching a leg from a maple-wood table, Pelates of Pella (i.e. a Lapith) knocked him (i.e. Amycus) to the ground, with his chin having been driven into his chest, and, as he spits out his teeth, intermingled with dark blood, he dispatches (him) to the shades of Tartarus with a second blow.

"(Then,) as he stood next to the smoking altar, gazing with a wild expression (on his face), Gryneus  cries out, 'Why not make use of this (then)?' and he lifted up the huge altar, together with its flames, and flung it (right) into the midst of a bunch of Lapiths, and crushed two (of them), Broteas and Orios: (now) Orios' mother was Mycale, who was known to have frequently drawn down the horns of the moon by her incantations, despite its reluctance. 'You will not escape unscathed, (if) only access to a weapon should be granted (me)!' said Exadius (i.e. one of the Lapiths), and he finds something as good as a weapon in a stag's antlers, which were (hung) on a tall pine-tree as a votive offering. Then, Gryneus is pierced in the eyes by the twin branches, and his eye-balls are gouged out, one of which sticks to the antlers, (and) the other rolls down into his beard, and hangs (there) stiff with blood.

"Behold, Rhoetus snatches up a burning brand of wood from a plum-tree from the middle of the altar, and (bringing it down) from his right side, he fractures Charaxus' temples, covered (as they are) by his blond hair. His hair, caught by the devouring flames, flared up like a dry cornfield, and the blood flowing from the wound gave out a horrible sizzling sound, like an iron-bar, glowing red in the fire, is generally accustomed to give, when the blacksmith takes it out with his curved tongs, and plunges (it) into the waters: then, it whistles and hisses, (when) submerged in the bubbling water. The wounded (man) shakes the greedy fire from his shaggy hair, and plucks a lintel(-stone) from the ground and lifts (it) up on to his shoulders, a burden (sufficient) for a wagon (pulled by oxen), (and) its very weight made it such that he could not hurl (it) against his enemy: yet this lump of stone crushed his companion Cometes (i.e. a Lapith, like Charaxus), who was standing on a spot nearby. Rhoetus could not contain his delight: 'I pray,' he says, 'that the rest of the troop in your camp may be so daring!' And he renews his repeated blows with the half-burned branch, and, with three or four heavy blows, he broke through the joints of his (i.e. Cometes') skull, and the bones sank down into the fluid of his brain.

 Ll. 290-326.  The deaths of Corythus, Aphidas and others.

"The victor turns his attention to Euagrus, Corythus, and Dryas (i.e. all Lapiths); when (one) of these, Corythus, fell, his cheek-bones covered with his first downy hair, Euagrus cries out, 'What glory do you gain in shedding (the blood of) a boy?' but Rhoetus does not allow him to say any more, and fiercely plunged the reddish flames into the man's open mouth and down his throat into his chest. He pursues you also, savage Dryas, whirling the fiery (branch) around his head, but the result does not remain the same in your (case): as he is exulting in the succession of continuous slaughter, you stab with a charred stake (in the place) where his neck is joined to his shoulder. Rhoetus groaned, and, with some difficulty, wrenched the stake from the hard bone, and he, himself, ran, drenched in his own blood. Orneus and Lycabas also ran, as did Medon (who was) wounded in his right shoulder, and Thaumas, together with Pisenor, and Mermeros, who had recently overcome everyone in a running contest, but was now going more slowly due to the wound (he had) received; Pholus and Melaneus, and Abas, the boar-hunter,  also (fled), as did the seer Asbolus, who had vainly tried to dissuade them from fighting: to Nessus, who was also afraid of being wounded, he says, 'Do not flee! You are destined to be kept for Hercules' bow.' Then, Eurynomus and Lycidas, and Areos and Imbreus did not escape death; (for) the right(-hand) of Dryas struck them all down, as they confronted (him). You, also, Crenaeus, received a wound in your front, although you had turned your back in flight: for, as you are looking back, you receive the heavy iron (blade) between your two eyes (in the place) where your nose joins the bottom of your forehead.

"Aphidas was lying, without waking, amongst this immense noise, with all his strength (sunk) in endless sleep, and he was holding a cup of mixed (wine) in his limp hand, as he lay stretched out on a shaggy bear-skin from (Mount) Ossa (i.e. a mountain in Thessaly); when Phorbas (i.e. a Lapith) saw him from a distance stirring in vain without any weapons, he put his fingers into (his javelin's) strap, and said, 'You will drink your wine mixed with (the water of) the Styx (i.e. the main river of the Underworld)'; without any further delay, he hurled his javelin at the youth, and his iron-tipped ashen shaft was driven through his neck, as he lay by chance on his back. He did not feel his death, and the dark blood overflowed from his throat on to his couch and into his very wine-cup.

Ll. 327-392.  Pirithoüs, Theseus and Peleus join the fight.

"I saw Petraeus trying to raise an oak-tree laden with acorns from the ground; while he goes around tugging at it, and pulls (it) this way and that, and shakes the loosened trunk, a lance (hurled) by Pirithoüs sunk into Petraeus' ribs and pinned his writhing chest to that hard oak. They say that Lycus, and Chromis also, fell through the valour of Pirithoüs, but they both gave their conqueror a lesser claim to fame than Dictys and Helops (did): Helops was transfixed by by a javelin which created a pathway through his temples, and it went through his right (ear) and penetrated through to his left ear; Dictys stumbled on the two-headed peak of a mountain, while he flees in alarm from the son of Ixion (i.e. Pirithoüs), who is pressing (him) hard, and he falls headlong and shattered a huge mountain-ash by the weight of his body, and entangles his entrails in the broken (tree).

"Aphareus is there (as) his avenger, and tries to hurl a rock which he had torn away from the mountain-side; as he tries, the son of Aegeus (i.e. Theseus) surprises (him) and breaks the massive bones of his elbow; he neither has enough time nor (enough) concern to inflict death on that disabled body, and he leaps on to the back of the lofty Bienor, who is not used to carrying anyone except himself, and he pressed his knees into his ribs, and holding his hair, (which he had) seized in his left(-hand), he shattered his face and his mouth, as it was issuing threats, and his bony temples with his knotted wooden (club). With this club he lays low Nedymnus, and Lycopes, the javelin-thrower, and Hippasos, his chest covered by a flowing beard, and Ripheus, who towered above the tree-tops, and Thereus, who used to carry home alive the raging bears, (which he had) caught in the hills of Harmonia (i.e. Thessaly).

"Demoleon could not endure any longer Theseus enjoying such successes in battle: with a great effort he tries to pull out an ancient pine-tree with its solid trunk; because he could not do it, he broke (it) off and threw (it) at his enemy, but, at Pallas' warning, he (i.e. Theseus) withdrew far away from the approaching missile: (or) so he wished to be believed. Yet, the tree did not fall without effect; for it severed tall Crantor's breast and left shoulder from his collar-bone: that (man) had been your father's armour-bearer, Achilles, and Amyntor, the ruler of the Dolopians, overcome in war, had given him to the son of Aeacus (i.e. Achilles' father, Peleus) as a token and a pledge of peace.

"When Peleus saw from afar that he (had been) torn apart by this frightful wound, he exclaims, 'Accept these offerings to the dead at least, (O) Crantor, dearest of warriors,' and, with his powerful arm, he hurled his ash-wood spear at Demoleon with his full strength, and it ruptured his rib-cage and stuck quivering in his bones. With his hand he (i.e. Demoleon) draws out the wooden (shaft) without its point  - he seeks that also with difficulty - (but) the point is caught in his lung; the very pain gave strength to his will: in his suffering, he rears up at his enemy, and beats down on the man with his hooves. He (i.e. Peleus) catches the resounding blows on his helmet and shield, and he defends his upper arms and controls the weapon which he holds out in front of (him), and with one blow through his shoulders he pierces his dual breast.
 
"But, before (this), he had (already) delivered Phlegraeos and Hyles to their death from a distance, and Iphinoüs and Clanis at close quarters; added to these (is) Dorylas, who wore a wolf-skin cap on his head, and, instead of a deadly spear, (had) a magnificent (pair of) crooked bulls' horns, made red with much blood. I (i.e. Nestor) shouted to him - for my courage gave me strength - 'Look, how your horns give way to my spear!' And I threw my javelin: since he could not avoid it, he put his right(-hand) on his forehead in order to undergo the wound: his hand was pinned to his forehead; he lets out a cry, but as he came to a halt, overcome by this harsh wound, Peleus - for he was standing nearby - strikes him in the middle of his stomach. He leapt forward and dragged his entrails wildly along the ground, and, as he dragged (them), (so) he trampled on (them), and, as he trampled on (them), (so) he tore (them), and entangled his legs in them too, and falls with an empty belly.

Ll. 393-428.  Cyllarus and Hylonome.

"Nor did your beauty, Cyllarus, if, indeed, we can allow any beauty (to belong) to that species of yours, save you in the fighting. His beard was beginning (to grow), the colour of his beard (was) golden, (and) his golden hair fell from his shoulders into the midst of his flanks. The energetic expression) on his face (was) pleasing; his neck his shoulders, his hands and his breast, and whatever (parts) a man should have, (were) close to the praiseworthy designs of craftsmen; nor (were) the features of a horse below that marred and inferior to (those) of a man; give (him) a (horse's) neck and head, (and) he would be worthy of Castor (i.e. the heavenly twin who loved horses and horsemanship); his back (is) so (suitable) for sitting on, his deep chest is so (full) of muscles. (He is) blacker than dark pitch all over, but for his white tail; the colour of his legs is also white.  

"Many (females) of his species courted him, but one, Hylonome, won (him), and no one more lovely than her lived among the half-beasts (i.e. the Centaurs) in the depths of the forests. She alone held Cyllaron's (affections), by her endearments, by her love-making, by her acknowledging her love, (and,) also, by her appearance, in so far as her limbs would allow her to smooth her hair with a comb, and to entwine herself, now with rosemary, now with violets or with roses; sometimes, she would wear white lilies, and each day she would bathe her face twice in the springs that fell in the woods on the heights of Pagasae (i.e. a coastal town in Thessaly), and she would dip her body twice in the stream, nor would she spread any pelts over her shoulder or across her left flank, except (those) of selected wild beasts that became (her). Their love is shared between them: they wandered on the mountains together, and they entered caves at the same time; and now they had entered the palace of the Lapiths together, and together they waged fierce war. A javelin - its instigator is uncertain - came from the left side, and pierced you, Cyllarus, below (the place) where the chest borders the neck; after the weapon (had been) drawn out, his heart, (though) damaged (only) by a slight wound, grew cold, together with his whole body. Immediately, Hylonome clasps hold of the dying limbs, and she places her hand on the wound and keeps (it) warm, and puts her mouth on his mouth, and tries to block his departing spirit; when she sees that (he is) dead, with words that the noise prevented from reaching my ears, she threw (herself) upon the spear which had pierced him, and embraced her husband, as she died. 

Ll. 429-535.  The transformation of Caeneus.

"Phaeocomes stands before my eyes, the one who had bound six lion's pelts together with knotted cords, protecting both man and horse at the same time; hurling a block of wood that two pairs (of oxen) could scarcely shift, he smashed the skull of Telephos, son of Olenus (i.e. a Lapith); the broad dome of his head (was) shattered and the soft (matter of) his brain oozed out through his mouth, and through his hollow nostrils, and his eyes and ears, like curdled milk is wont (to seep) through a basked woven with twigs of oak, or as liquid trickles through a coarse sieve under its own weight, and is gradually squeezed out through the numerous holes. But, while he prepares to strip the fallen (man) of his armour, I plunged my sword deep into the despoiler's groin - your father (i.e. Peleus) knows this. Chthonius and Teleboas also fell by my sword: the former bore a forked branch, the latter a spear; with this spear he gave me a wound. See the mark! the old scar is still visible. In those days I would have been sent to capture Pergama (i.e. the citadel of Troy); then, I could have detained the arms of Hector greatly with my own, if not have overcome (him)! But, at that time, Hector was not yet born, or (was) a child, and now old age has weakened me.

"Why should I tell you how Periphas (was) the conqueror of dual-shaped Pyraethus, or of Ampycus, who drove his spear without a point right into the face of the four-footed Echeclus? Macareus felled Pelethronian (i.e. Thessalian) Erigdupus (i.e. a Lapith), by throwing a crowbar at his chest; and I remember that a hunting-spear, thrown by the hand of Nessus buried itself in the groin of Cymbelus (i.e. also a Lapith). Nor should you believe that Mopsus, the son of Ampyx, only prophesied future (events): (for) the two-formed Hodites fell to Mopsus' throw, and tried to speak in vain, as his tongue had been nailed to his chin and his chin to his throat.

"Caeneus delivered five (Centaurs) to their death: Styphelus, Bromis, Antimachus, Elymus and axe-wielding Pyracmon; I do not remember their wounds, but I did note the number (of them) and their names. (Then,) Latreus rushes forward, massive in limbs and body, armed with the spoils of Halesus of Emathia (i.e. a district of Macedonia), whom he had killed: his age (was) between youth and old age, (but, although) the hair on his temples was turning grey, he had the vigour of youth. Conspicuous for his shield and helmet, and Macedonian lance, and turning his face to both sides, he clashed his weapons together, and rode in a clear circle, and he boldly poured forth so many words into the empty air: 'And do I (really) have to put up with you, Caenis? For you (will) always (be) a woman to me; you will (always) be Caenis to me. Does not your natal origin impress itself upon you, and does it (not) come into your mind by what deed you won your reward, and at what cost (you procured) the false appearance of a man? Consider what you were born (to be), or what you have suffered, and go, pick up your distaff, and your basket of wool, and twist the thread with your thumb; leave war to the men!' As he was tossing about such (words), Caeneus hurled his spear, (and,) as he was extended at the gallop, he tore (a hole) in his side (at the point) where man was joined to horse. He (i.e. Latreus) was maddened with pain, and strikes the Phylleian youth (i.e. Caeneus, the epithet being taken from Phyllos, a town in Thessaly) with his lance on his bare face: it bounces off, just like a hailstone from the top of a roof, or as if someone should strike a hollow drum with a small pebble. He attacks (him) at close quarters, and strives to bury his sword in his impenetrable side: (but) the spot was inaccessible to the sword. 'Yet, you will not escape! The edge of my sword will kill you, even if its point is blunt,' he cries, and he turns his sword aside into his side, and envelops his loins with his long right(-arm). The blow makes a moaning noise, like a block of marble being struck, and the blade cracked and broke up as it hit the firm flesh. When he had offered his undamaged limbs to his wondering (enemy) for long enough, Caeneus says, 'Go on now, let me try my sword on your body,' and he plunged his deadly sword between his shoulder(-blades) right up to the hilt, and twisted and kept on turning his hand in his guts, and inflicted wound upon wound.

"See, the raving Centaurs rush (on him) with a great cry, and they all aim and fling their spears at this one (man). The spears fall blunted: (but) Caeneus, son of Elatus, remains unpierced and unblooded by all their blows.

"This strange occurrence had caused (them) to be astounded. 'Alas! (what) a great shame!' exclaims Monychus (i.e. a Centaur), 'we, (as) a people, are defeated by one (person), and (he is) scarcely a man; and, yet, he is a man, and we, with our feeble actions, are what he (once) was. What use are our enormous limbs? What (use is) our two-fold strength, and that double nature which has united the strongest living creatures in our (bodies)? Nor do I think that we are the sons of a divine mother, nor (are) we (the sons) of Ixion, who was so great as to entertain the hope of (winning) lofty Juno: we are overcome by an enemy that is a hermaphrodite! Roll down rocks an tree-trunks, and whole mountain(-sides) on top of him, and crush that stubborn spirit with the forest that we have hurled (on him)! Let their mass constrict his throat, and let there be weight instead of wounds.'

"He (i.e. Monychus) spoke, and, having happened to find a tree-trunk (which had been) toppled by the furious strength of the South Wind, he flung (it) at his powerful foe. It served as an example, and in a short time (Mount) Othrys (i.e. a mountain in Thessaly) was bare of trees, and Pelion (i.e. also a mountain in Thessaly) had no shade. Buried within that huge pile, Caeneus rages under the weight of the trees, and bears the heaped up oak-trees upon his brawny shoulders, but actually, when the load grew above his mouth and head, his breath has no air (upon) which it can draw, (and,) often, it fails, (and) sometimes he tries in vain to raise himself up into the air and to throw off the forest (which is) piled (on him), and sometimes he heaves, as though steep Ida (i.e. the mountain near Troy) is shaken by an earthquake. The outcome is uncertain: some say that his body (was) thrust down into empty Tartarus by the mass of trees; (but) the son of Ampyx (i.e. Mopsus) denied (this), and saw a bird with tawny wings fly out into the clear air from the midst of the pile, and it was then seen by me for the first and last time.

"When Mopsus watched him as he encircled his camp in smooth flight, making a great noise all around (him), and followed (him) with his mind and eyes alike, he said, 'O hail (to you,) Caeneus, the glory of the race of Lapiths, once the greatest of heroes, but now solely a bird!' The matter is believed due to its author: our grief increases our anger, and we could hardly endure (the thought) of one (man) being overwhelmed by so many enemies (at one time); nor did we desist from working out our pain with the sword, until half (of them) (i.e. the Centaurs) were dead, and flight and darkness had swallowed up the rest."

Ll. 536-579.  The death of Periclymenus.

As the (hero) of Pylos tells of this battle between the Lapiths and the half-human Centaurs, Tlepolemus (i.e. a son of Hercules, and the leader of the Rhodians) could not endure, with a silent mouth, the pain of the grandson of Alceus (i.e. Hercules) being overlooked, and he says: "It is amazing, old man, that your recitals (are) oblivious of any praise of Hercules; assuredly, my father often used to tell me that the cloud-born (Centaurs) had been subdued by him." The Pylian (hero replies) sternly to these (words): "Why do you force me to remember wrongs and to reopen sorrows obscured by the years, and to reveal my hatred for your father and the injuries (that he caused me)? He performed, it is true, (O) gods! (deeds) greater than one can believe, and he filled the world with (praise) for his services, which I wish I could deny; but we do not praise Deïphobus, or Polydamas, or even Hector: for who praises his enemy? That father of yours once razed Messene's walls, and destroyed the innocent cities of Elis and Pylos (i.e. both cities of the Western Peloponnese) and drove fire and sword into my household gods, and, though I say nothing of the others whom he killed, we were the twelve sons of Neleus, (all) outstanding young men, (and all) twelve (of us) fell to the might of Hercules, except me alone. And yet, (while) it must be said that the others could have been defeated, the death of Periclymenus, to whom Neptune, the founder of Neleus' bloodline, had granted the power to assume any form he wished, and to set aside again any (shape he had) assumed, was strange. When he had fruitlessly changed to every form, he turned to the shape of the bird (i.e. the eagle) that is used to carrying in its curved talons that lightning bolt (so) pleasing to the king of the gods; employing the strength of that bird in its wings and its curved beak and hooked claws, it tore at the hero's face. The Tirynthian (i.e. Hercules, the epithet, taken from the Argolian city of Tiryns, being commonly applied to him) aims his all too unerring bow at him, and, as he bears his body high among the cloud and hangs (poised there), he strikes (him in the place) where his wing is joined to his side. The wound was not a fatal (one), but the sinews, severed by the wound, fail and deny (him) movement and the power of flight. He falls to earth, his weakened wings no longer catching the winds, and (at the spot) where it had clung lightly to his wing, the arrow was driven (upwards) by the weight of his distressed body, and was forced through the top of his side into the left side of his throat. Now, O most splendid leader of the Rhodian fleet, do I appear to owe commendations for the deeds of your Hercules? Yet, I do not seek to avenge my brothers, other than by keeping silent about his brave deeds; my friendship with you is a solid (one)."

When the son of Neleus (i.e. Nestor) had said these (things) in a pleasant voice, (they passed) from the old man's conversation to a renewed (attention) to the gifts of Bacchus (i.e. wine-drinking), (and then) they arose from their couches: the rest of the night was given to sleep.

Ll. 580-628.  The death of Achilles.

But the god of the sea (i.e. Neptune), who rules the waters of the sea with his trident, grieves with a father's feeling for the body of his son, (which had been) changed into the bird of Phaëthon (i.e. a swan), and, hating the murderous Achilles, he indulges his unforgetting wrath in a manner beyond what was courteous. And now, when the war had lasted for ten years, he addresses the unshorn Sminthean god (i.e. Apollo, the epithet coming from Smintha, a town in the Troad) in the following words: "O by far the most beloved of my brother's sons, who built the walls of Troy with me in vain, don't you sigh at all when you behold these battlements, destined to fall at any moment? Or don't you grieve at all that so many thousands have died in defence of their walls? (Don't you grieve for) anyone at all, (and) lest I should name (them) all, doesn't the ghost of Hector come before (you), as he is dragged around (the walls of) his own Pergama? Yet, although he is fierce and more cruel than war itself, Achilles, that destroyer of our handiwork, still lives. Let him come within my (reach): I shall make (him) understand what I can do with my triple-headed spear; but, since it is not granted to me to meet my enemy face to face, you must kill him unexpectedly with an unseen arrow!" The Delian god (i.e. Apollo, who was born on the Aegean island of Delos) nodded in agreement, and indulging equally his uncle's and his own feelings, he comes to the host of Ilium, and in the midst of human slaughter, he sees Paris casting one or two missiles at unknown Achaeans, and, revealing (himself as) a god, he says, "Why do you waste your darts on the blood of commoners? If you have any concern for your own (kinsmen), aim at the grandson of Aeacus (i.e. Achilles), and avenge your brothers (whom he has) slain!" He spoke, and pointing to the son of Peleus (i.e. Achilles), who, with his sword, was strewing (the ground) with Trojan bodies, he turned (Paris') bow towards him, and guided the unerring shaft with a deadly right(-hand). This was (the only thing) which could delight old Priam since Hector (died); so, Achilles, (you) famous conqueror of such great (men), you are conquered by the cowardly robber of the wife of a Greek! And, if you had to fall in war to a woman, you would rather have fallen to a Thermodontian (i.e. Amazonian) battle-axe.

Now, the grandson of Aeacus (i.e. Achilles), that terror of the Phrygians (i.e. the Trojans) and guardian of the name of the Pelasgians (i.e. the Greeks), that invincible captain in battle, was cremated; now he is ash, and of the (once) so great Achilles I know not how little remains, scarcely enough to fill an urn, but his glory lives (on), enough to fill the whole of the (wide) world. That equals the measure of the man, and, in this, the son of Peleus (i.e. Achilles) is a match for himself, and does not feel the emptiness of Tartarus.

So that you might know whose it was, his very shield makes war, and, for his arms, arms are taken up. Neither the son of Tydeus (i.e. Diomedes) nor Ajax, the son of Oïleus, dares to claim them, nor does the lesser son of Atreus (i.e. Menelaüs), nor the greater (one, both) in war and in age (i.e. Agamemnon), nor any other (chieftain): only the sons of Telamon (i.e. Ajax) and Laërtes (i.e. Ulysses) had the confidence for such glory. The descendant of Tantalus (i.e. Agamemnon) took away from himself the invidious burden (of choosing between them), and he ordered the leaders of the Argolians (i.e. the Greeks) to meet in the middle of the camp, and transferred the judgment of the matter in dispute to all (of them).

OVID: "METAMORPHOSES": BOOK XI

Introduction:

For an introduction to Ovid and the work as a whole, the reader is invited to look at the introduction to the translation of "Metamorphoses" Book I, published on this blog on 1st February 2018. 

Book XI continues, and indeed brings to a conclusion, the theme of 'the pathos of love' which began on l. 401 of Book VI. The book covers a number of myths, but concentrates particularly on the haunting tale of the love of Ceÿx and Halcyone, which it compares with that of Peleus and Thetis, the parents of Achilles. The metamorphosis myths recounted in Book XI are as follows: the death of Orpheus; Midas; the contest between Apollo and Pan; Laomedon and the walls of Troy; Peleus and Thetis; Daedalion; the cattle of Peleus; Ceÿx and Halcyone; Aesacus and Hesperia.

Ll. 1-66.  The death of Orpheus.

While the Thracian bard entices the trees, the souls of wild beasts, and (even) the stones to follow (him) by songs such as these, behold, the Ciconian women (i.e. women from the Thracian tribe of the Cicones, to which Orpheus belongs), their heaving breasts concealed by animal skins, observe Orpheus from the summit of a hill, as he attunes his songs to his sounding (lyre-)strings. One of them, her hair tossed by the light breeze, says, "Look, look, this is (the one) who scorns our (love)!" and she hurled her spear at the face of Apollo's bard, as he is singing. Tipped with leaves, it makes a mark, but left no wound; the second missile is a stone, which, while in flight, is overcome in the very air by the harmony of his voice and lyre, and it lay at his feet as though begging (forgiveness) for such mad audacity. But actually the mindless assaults increase, and there is no restraint, and mad fury rules. All their missiles would have been blunted, but the great clamour of the Berecyntian flutes (i.e. flutes made of boxwood, from the trees of Mount Berecyntus in Phrygia, adjacent to the River Sangarius, and sacred to Cybele) with their broken pipes, and the beating of drums and breasts, and the howls of the Bacchanals drowned out the sound of his lute: in the end, then, the stones grew red with the blood of the bard, whom they could not hear.

In the first place, the Maenads (i.e. the female followers of Bacchus/Dionysus, known for their ecstatic worship of the god) tore apart Orpheus' famous audience, the countless birds, the snakes, and the throng of wild beasts, (which were) still entranced by the voice of the singer. And then they turn their blood-stained hands on Orpheus, and they together gather like birds whenever they see that bird of the night (i.e. an owl) wandering around in the daylight. Like a doomed stag is the prey of dogs in the early morning (hunt) in the arena, (once) the stands have been constructed on both sides, they rush at the bard and join together in hurling (at him) their green-leaved staffs, (which have) not (been) made for that purpose. Some throw clods of earth, some branches torn from trees, (and) others flint-stones. And lest they lack weapons in their madness, some oxen happened to be turning over the soil, by digging (it) up with a ploughshare, and not far away from there some brawny farm-workers were digging the solid earth, and were preparing (it) for use with much sweat. When they saw the throng, they flee, and leave behind (them) their work-tools, and light hoes, heavy rakes and long mattocks lie scattered through the empty fields. 

After they had snatched these up and ripped apart the oxen with their threatening horns, those fierce (women) rush back to the killing of the bard, and, as he stretches out his hands, and speaks ineffectually and does not move any (of them) with his voice for the first (and only) time in his life, those sacrilegious (women) murder (him) And his spirit, exhaled through that mouth, which had been heard by stones and understood by the senses of wild creatures, vanished, O Jupiter, into the winds. The sorrowful birds, and the crowd of wild animals, and the hard flint-stones, (and) the woods that had often followed your songs shed tears for you, Orpheus, (and) the trees, shedding their leaves, mourned you with their bare crowns. They say that the rivers were also swollen with their tears, and the naiads (i.e. water-nymphs) and the dryads (i.e. tree-nymphs) wore dark-grey garments and kept their hair dishevelled. His limbs fall in different places. You, Hebrus (i.e. a river in Thrace), receive his head and his lyre, and - (O how) miraculous! - , while the lyre floats in mid-stream, it lets out I know not what mournful complaint, his lifeless tongue utters a mournful (sound), and the river-banks reply mournfully. 

And now, carried out to sea, they leave their native river and reach Methymnaea on the shore of Lesbos. Here, a savage serpent attacks the head, exposed (as it is) on that foreign beach, and with its hair dripping with sea-water. At last, Phoebus appears and stops (it) just as it was getting ready to make its bites, and freezes the serpent's gaping jaws and hardens its mouth (into stone), wide-open as it was. 

His shade sinks under the earth, and recognises all those places he had seen before, and, searching (for her) through the fields of the blessed, he finds Eurydice, and embraces (her) in his eager arms. Here now, they both walk about with interlocking footsteps; now Orpheus follows (her) as she goes in front, now he goes before (her), leading the way, and looks back, safely now, at his Eurydice. 

Ll. 67-84.  The transformation of the Maenads.

Lyaeus (i.e. an epithet of Bacchus, meaning 'deliverer from care'), however, did not allow such a crime to go unpunished, and, grieving at the loss of the bard of his sacred rites, he immediately bound with twisted roots (the feet of) all the Edonian (i.e. Thracian) women, who had witnessed the sin. Indeed, the path which each one was following at that moment, had lengthened their toes, and forced the tips (of them) into the solid ground; and, as a bird, when its leg is caught in a snare, which a skilful wild-fowler has concealed, and feels (itself) held, beats its wings and, as it flaps, tightens its bonds by its movement, so, when each one of these (women) had stuck fast, fixed in the ground, in her fear she tried in vain to flee; but the pliant roots holds her, and checks (her) as she struggles, and, while she looks for where her toes are, and where her feet and her toe-nails (are), she sees wood spreading over her shapely legs, and, as she tried to beat her thighs with grieving hands, she struck oak: her breasts also become oak, her shoulders are oak, and you would have thought her extended arms were real branches, and you would not have been wrong in your thinking.

Ll. 85-145.  Midas and the golden touch.

This is not enough for Bacchus: he even leaves the very fields, and with a worthier train (of followers) he seeks the vineyards of his own Tmolus (i.e. a mountain in Lydia, sacred to Bacchus) and the Pactolus (i.e. a river close both to Mount Tmolus and the city of Sardis, the Lydian capital), although it was not golden at that time, nor was it envied for its valuable sands. His customary retinue, the Satyrs and Bacchanals, accompanies him, but Silenus is absent: Phrygian countrymen caught hold of him, tottering (as he was) with both age and wine, and led (him), bound with garlands, to King Midas, to whom Thracian Orpheus, together with Cecropian (i.e. Athenian) Eumolpus, had transmitted the Bacchic revels. As soon as he recognised him (as) his comrade and companion in the sacred rites, he joyfully arranged a celebration of his guest's arrival (which lasted) for ten days and nights joined in succession. And now, on the eleventh (day), when Lucifer (i.e. the Morning Star) had dispelled the lofty throng of stars, the King comes in joy to the fields of Lydia and restores Silenus to his young foster-child (i.e. Bacchus).

The god, joyful at his foster-father's return, offered him (i.e. Midas) the authority to choose a gift, a welcome but futile (decision). Doomed to make a poor use of this gift, he says, "Make (it) so that whatever I touch with my body turns to yellow gold." Liber (i.e. Bacchus) agreed to what he had chosen, and released the harmful gift, but he was sad that he had not asked for (something) better.

The Berecyntian demi-god (i.e. Midas) departs happily, and rejoices in his misfortune, and he tests his faith in what he has been promised by touching several (things), and scarcely believing it, (when) he broke off a green twig from the low foliage of a holm-oak: the twig became golden. He picks up a stone from the ground: the stone also turns yellow with gold. Then, he touched a clod of earth: by the power of touch, the clod becomes a nugget (of gold). He gathered some dry husks of corn: it was a (golden) harvest. He holds an apple (he had) picked from a tree: you would think the Hesperides (i.e. the three nymphs who tended the garden with golden apples on an island to the west beyond Mount Atlas) had given (it to him). If he placed his fingers on the tall door-posts, the door-posts seem to glisten. When he washed his hands in clear water, the water flowing over his hands would also have deceived Danaë (i.e. the mother of Perseus, whom Jupiter raped after disguising himself as a shower of gold). As he makes everything golden, he can scarcely contain his hopes in his own mind. As he was exulting, his servants set tables (before him), heaped with dainties, nor (were they) lacking baked bread.

Then indeed, if he touched the gift of Ceres (i.e. bread) with his hand, Ceres' gift hardened, or, if he prepared to tear the food with eager teeth, a layer of yellow covered the food, where his teeth had touched (it). When he mixed the instigator of his gift (i.e. Bacchus as wine) with pure water, you could see the liquid gold flowing through his mouth.

Stunned by this unfortunate novelty, and rich but wretched, he chooses to flee his wealth, and he loathes what he has just wished for. No abundance can relieve his hunger; an arid thirst burns his throat, and he is deservedly tortured by the hateful gold, and, lifting his hands and his shining arms to heaven, he says, "Give (me) your pardon, father Lenaeus (i.e. an epithet of Bacchus as god of the vineyards)! I have sinned, but have pity on (me), I beg (you), and save (me) from this apparently splendid curse!" The will of the gods (is) kind: as soon as he confessed, Bacchus restored (him), and took back the gift (which he had) given (him) in fulfilment of his promise, and "So that you do not remain coated with the gold you (once) wished for (so) foolishly," says he, "Go to the river bordering on great Sardis (i.e. the Pactolus), and make your way by means of the ridge of the river-bank, which meets the falling waters, until you come to the source of the river, and plunge your head and body together into the foaming fountain where (the water) gushes out, and, at the same time, wash away your sin."

The King proceeded to the water (as he had been) bidden: the golden essence tinged the river, and went from his human body into the current. Even now, by gathering the grains of gold from the ancient vein, the fields are already hardening, made pale by the drenched soil.

Ll. 146-171.  Pan and Apollo compete before Tmolus. 

Detesting wealth, he (i.e. Midas) cultivated the woods and fields, and Pan, who always dwells in mountain-caves. But he remained dull-witted, and the seat of his foolish mind was destined, once again, to harm its master, as before. For, commanding a wide view of the sea, (Mount) Tmolus stands steep in its lofty ascent, and, extending to a slope on either side, is bounded by Sardis on one side, (and) tiny Hypaepae on the other. While Pan is there boasting to the gentle nymphs of his songs, and is playing a light air on his reeds glued with wax, he dared to speak slightingly of Apollo's songs compared with his own, and entered an unequal contest, with Tmolus as the judge.

The aged judge was seated on his own mountain(-top), and shakes his ears free of the trees: his dark hair is encircled only by a wreath of oak-leaves, and acorns hang down around his hollow temples. And, looking at the god of the flocks (i.e. Pan), he said, "There is nothing to prevent (me) from being the judge." He (i.e. Pan) sounds his rustic reeds, and entrances Midas - for he happened to be near the music-making - with his uncouth singing. After this, sacred Tmolus turned his face towards the mouth of Phoebus, (and) his forest followed his face. His golden head wreathed with laurel from (Mount) Parnassus, he (i.e. Apollo/Phoebus) sweeps the ground with his robe dyed with Tyrian purple, and he holds his lyre, inlaid with precious stones and Indian ivory in his left(-hand); his other hand held his plectrum. His posture was (that) of a (true) artist. Then, he plucks the strings with skilled fingers, (and) Tmolus, captivated by their sweet (sound), tells Pan to lower his pipes in submission to the lyre.

 Ll. 172-193.  Midas and the ass's ears.

The decision of the mountain(-god) satisfies everyone's opinion, (and) yet it is challenged and called unjust by the voice of Midas alone; the Delian (god) (i.e. an epithet of Apollo, taken from the name of his birthplace, the island of Delos) does not permit such uncultivated ears to retain their human form, but extends (them) in length and fills (them) with shaggy grey hair, and makes them flexible and gives (them) the ability to move about. All his other (parts) are human: he is punished in this one aspect, and he assumes the ears of a slow-moving ass.

He, indeed, is anxious to conceal (them), and he tries to mitigate his shamefully ugly head by (wearing) a purple turban. But the servant who used to trim his long hair with a knife had seen it. Since he did not dare to reveal the shameful (thing he had) seen, (and, while he was) eager to broadcast (it) to the winds, yet he could not keep silent (about it), (and) he goes off and digs (a hole in) the ground, and relates in a tiny voice what kind of ears he has beheld on his master's (head), and whispers (this) to the hollow earth, and (then) he buries the evidence of his voice under the earth (which he has) thrown back, and leaves the hole (which he has) covered over in silence. (But) a thick grove of quivering reeds began to grow there, and, as soon as it reached the maturity of a full year, it betrayed its planter: for, stirred gently by the south wind, it repeats the words (which were) buried, and exposes the ears of his master.

Ll. 194-220.  Laomedon and the walls of Troy.

Having punished (him) (i.e. Midas), Latona's son (i.e. Apollo) departs from (Mount) Tmolus, and, having been conveyed through the clear air, he came to earth in the land of Laomedon, this side of the narrow sea (named after) Helle, the daughter of Nephele (n.b. Helle fell off the back of the golden ram and was drowned in the sea, which was named the Hellespont in her memory). To the right (of the depths) of Sigeum, and to the left of the depths of Rhoeteum is the ancient altar dedicated to (Jupiter), the Thunderer and the Source of All Oracles. There, he sees Laomedon beginning to build the walls of the new Troy, and (as he saw that) this great undertaking was an increasingly difficult task, and that it was requiring no little resources, he assumes mortal form, together with the trident-bearing father of the swelling deep (i.e. Neptune), and builds the walls for the Phrygian king (i.e. Laomedon), having agreed (with him a sum of) gold for (the construction of) the walls. 

There stood the edifice: (but) the king denies (them) their payment and adds perjury to his false words as a crowning addition to his treachery. "You will not go unpunished," says the ruler of the sea, and he directed all the waters towards the shores of avaricious Troy, and flooded the land into the form of a strait, and bore off the farmers' crops and buried their fields beneath the waves. (But) this is not sufficient punishment: the king's daughter (i.e. Hesione) is also required (as food) for a sea-monster; Alceus' grandson (i.e. Hercules) saves her, after she has been chained to some solid rocks, and he demands the steeds (which were) agreed (as) his promised prize, and, when the reward for his great work (is) denied (him), he seizes the twice-perjured walls of conquered Troy. But Telamon (i.e. the son of Aeacus of Aegina, son of Jupiter), a member of his military force, did not depart without honour, and he acquires Hesione, after she has been given (to him in marriage). For Peleus (i.e. Telamon's elder brother) was already distinguished by (having) a goddess as his wife (i.e. he was married to the sea-goddess Thetis, daughter of Nereus and Doris): he (was) not more proud of the name of grandson than (that) of son-in-law, since even if he was not alone in being Jupiter's grandson (i.e. his brothers Telamon and Phocus were his grandsons also), he was alone in having a goddess as his wife.

Ll. 221-265.  Peleus and Thetis.

For aged Proteus (i.e. the ancient sea-god with the ability to change his form) had said to Thetis, "Conceive, (you) goddess of the waves: you will be the mother of a warrior, who, in the years of his manhood, will surpass the deeds of his father, and will be called greater than him." So, lest the earth should produce someone greater than Jupiter, although he had felt a hot passion within his breast, Jupiter fled from a union with marine Thetis, and bids his grandson, the son of Aeacus (i.e. Peleus), take his place with regard to his vows, and enter the embraces of the sea maiden.

In Harmonia (i.e. Thessaly) there is a bay, sickle-shaped with regard to its curved bendings; it arms project outwards; there would be a harbour there, if (only) the waves were deeper; the sea covers the surface of the sand; the shore is (so) firm, that it retains no footprints, prevents no footpath, nor is it unstable (because it is) concealed by sea-weed; a myrtle grove, covered over with red and black berries, is close at hand. And in its centre (there is) a cave, (whether) fashioned by nature or by art (is) uncertain, but more (likely) by art, whither you often used to come, Thetis, naked and sitting on a bridled dolphin. There, Peleus seizes you, as you were reclining, overcome by sleep: and, although tempted by his entreaties, you refuse (him), (and) he prepares (to use) force, entwining both his arms (around) your neck. He would have taken (you then and there) by his (act of) daring, if you had not come upon your customary arts, by frequently changing your shape. Now you (were) a bird: but he held (you as) a bird; now you were a large tree: Peleus stuck fast to the tree; your third shape was (that) of a striped tigress: in fear of that, he loosened his arms from your body. Then he entreats the gods of the sea, with wine poured
over the waters, with the entrails of sheep, and with the smoke of incense, until the Carpathian seer (i.e. Proteus, who dwelt on the Aegean island of Carpathos, located between Crete and Rhodes) spoke (thus) from the midst of the sea: "Son of Aeacus (i.e. Peleus), you will obtain the marriage you are seeking, provided you bind (her) unawares, with nooses and tight cords, when she is resting asleep in that rocky cave. And do not let her deceive you, (by) pretending (to be) a hundred (different) shapes, but hold (her close to you) whatever she becomes, until she changes back to what she was before!" Thus Proteus finished speaking, and hid his face in the sea, and let his waves loose among his final words.

(Now,) Titan (i.e. Sol, who was the son of the Titan Hyperion), was low (in the sky), and, with his chariot pointing down, was on course for the Hesperian (i.e. western) ocean, when the lovely daughter of Nereus (i.e. Thetis) leaves the sea and comes to her accustomed bed. Scarcely had Peleus got a good hold of her body, (when) she takes on new forms, until she realises that her limbs are tightly bound and that her arms are spread apart in different directions. Then at last, she sighed, and says, "You have not conquered (me) without the help of a god," and she showed herself (as) Thetis. When she has acknowledged (herself), the hero embraces (her) and achieves his wish, and he makes (her) pregnant with the mighty Achilles.

 Ll. 266-345.  Ceyx tells the story of Daedalion.

Peleus (was) both fortunate in his son and fortunate in his wife, and (was a man) for whom everything went well, if you exclude the crime of murdering Phocus (i.e. his half-brother); guilty of his brother's blood, the land of Trachin (i.e. a city in Thessaly) received (him after he had been) expelled from his native homeland. Here, Ceÿx (i.e. Κηüξ in Greek), born to his father Lucifer (i.e. the Morning Star), (and) displaying in his face his father's radiance, was ruling his kingdom without force and without bloodshed, but at that time (he was) sad, and, unlike his (normal)-self, he was mourning the loss of his brother.

When the son of Aeacus (i.e. Peleus), weary with his cares and with travel, came to him, and entered the city with a few companions, he left the flocks of sheep and the cattle that he had brought with him in a shady valley, not far from the walls; when the opportunity to enter the king's residence was given (to him), he holds out a draped olive-branch in his hand as a suppliant, (and) tells (him) who he is and whose son he (is), but he conceals his crime, and lies about the cause of his flight: he begs that he may support himself, (either) in the city or in the countryside. In reply, the (King) of Trachin addresses him as follows in a kindly voice: "Peleus, opportunities in my kingdom are open even to people of lowly rank, and I do not rule an inhospitable realm. You can add to this disposition the powerful influences of a famous name and Jupiter (being) your grandfather. Waste no time in prayer! You will receive everything that you are seeking, and whatever (things) you see, call them your share! If only you could see better (things)!"

And he began to weep: Peleus and his companions ask what was the cause of so much grief. He says to them: "Perhaps you think that the bird (i.e. a hawk) which lives on its prey and terrifies all (other) birds always had (feathered) wings: he was (once) a man called Daedalion, and, so great is the constancy of nature, that even then he was energetic, ferocious in warfare, and ready to (use) violence. We were begot by that father, who summons the dawn, and (is) the last (to) leave the sky (i.e. Lucifer, the Morning Star); I cherished peace, and had a concern for preserving peace and for my wife; (but) savage warfare was pleasing to my brother (i.e. Daedalion): his valour subdued kings and nations, but now, having been transformed, he pursues the doves of Thisbe (i.e. a  town in Boeotia, a region renowned for its doves).

Chione was his daughter. She was endowed with great beauty, and, marriageable at the age of fourteen, she had numerous suitors. Phoebus and the son of Maia (i.e. Mercury), the former returning from his (sacred) Delphi, and the latter from the summit of (Mount Cyllene) (i.e. the mountain in Arcadia which was Mercury's birthplace), happened to see her at the same moment, and at the same moment they flushed with desire. Apollo puts off his hope of making love (to her) to the night-time, (but) the other could brook no delay, and touches the virgin's face with his sleep-inducing wand: she lies beneath that potent touch, and suffers the god's assault. The night had sprinkled the heaven with stars: Phoebus pretends (to be) an old woman, and enjoys the delights (which had been) forestalled.

When her mature womb had completed its term, a son is born (to her) from the stock of the wing-footed god (i.e. Mercury), Autolycus, crafty and ingenious in every (sort of) intrigue, who was accustomed to making white (things) from black (ones), and black (things) from white (ones), not unworthy of his father's art; Philammon, renowned for his tuneful song and lyre is born from (the stock of) Phoebus - for indeed she gave birth to twins. (But) what is the benefit in having produced two (sons) and having pleased two gods and in being the child of a powerful father and the grandchild of the Thunderer (i.e. in this case, the Morning Star)? Glory is also harmful to many, is it not? It was certainly harmful to her! She set herself up in front of Diana, and criticised the goddess's appearance. But fierce anger aroused the latter, and she says, "(But) you will be satisfied with my deeds."

Without delay, she bent her bow and fired an arrow by its string, and it pierced the tongue that was at fault with its shaft. The tongue is silent, and no sound and attempted words follow, and, as she tries to speak, her life departs with its blood. Then, I embraced (her) in my misery, and felt her father's grief, and spoke (words of) comfort to my dear brother. Her father heard these (words) just like cliffs (hear) the whispers of the sea, and he bitterly laments the loss of his daughter. But, when he saw (her body) burning, there was an attempt by him on four occasions to cast himself into the midst of the pyre; and, when he had been repelled four times, he entrusts his agitated limbs to flight, and, like a bullock conducts (itself) after its neck (has been) pierced by hornets' stings, he runs where there is no pathway. Even then he seemed to me to run faster than any man, and you would have thought that his feet had taken on wings. So, he escapes (us) all, and, swift in his desire for death, he gains the summit of (Mount) Parnassus (i.e. a mountain in Phocis, sacred to Apollo and the Muses). When Daedalion hurled himself from the high rocks, Apollo, pitying (him), made (him into) a bird, and raised (him) up, hovering on his suddenly(-formed) wings, and gave (him) a hooked beak, and curved talons instead of finger-nails, (as well as) his former courage (and) a greater strength of body. And now, (as) a hawk, he rages against all (other) birds, not all friendly to any (of them), and his suffering becomes the cause of suffering to others.

Ll. 346-409.  Peleus and the wolf.

While Lucifer's son (i.e. Ceÿx) is telling this strange story about his brother (i.e. Daedalion), the guardian of (Peleus') herd, the Phocian Onetor, runs up to (them) in haste, his speed causing (him) to pant, and cries out, "Peleus, Peleus! I am here to bring you news of a great disaster." Peleus bids (him) speak of (it), whatever it should be, and the (King) of Trachis, with an anxious face, is poised in a fearful suspense himself. He (i.e. Onetor) says: "When the sun, at its zenith in the middle of its course, could look back on as much as it could see was remaining, and some of the oxen had lowered their knees on to the yellow sands, and, as they lay (there), were gazing at the wide expanse of the ocean, some were wandering here and there with slow steps; others are swimming and extend their lofty necks above the waves. There is a temple (there), close to the sea, not gleaming with marble and gold, but (made) with thick beams of timber, and overshadowed by an ancient grove. The Nereids and Nereus haunt (the place): a sailor, while drying his nets on the shore, told (me) that they were the gods of the sea. Close to it is a swamp, choked with dense willow-trees. From it an enormous beast, a wolf, terrorises the vicinity (by) making a heavy crashing noise, and it comes from the marshy rushes, its deadly mouth smeared with foam and soaked in blood, (and) its eyes suffused with red flame. Although it rages with fury and hunger at the same time, it is the more enraged by fury: for it is not concerned to satisfy its thirst and its dire hunger by the slaughter of oxen, but it wounded the whole herd and scatters all (of it) in its hostility. Even some of our (men), while we are defending (them), have received fatal injuries from its deadly jaws. The shore and the shallow waters are red with blood, and the marshes resound with bellowing. But delay is fatal, nor does the situation allow any hesitation; while some (of us) are left, we must all come together in arms, and we must take up our armour and carry our weapons jointly together!"

The countryman finished speaking; but the losses did not stir Peleus, but, remembering his crime, he concludes that the bereaved Nereid (i.e. Psamathe) is sending these losses (as) her sacrificial offerings on behalf of the murdered Phocus. The Oetean king (i.e. Trachis was overlooked by Mount Oeta) orders his men to don their armour and to take up their deadly weapons; he himself was preparing to go with them, but his  wife, Halcyone, disturbed by the tumult, springs forward, and scatters her hair which was not yet entirely arranged, and, throwing herself on her husband's neck, she begs (him) with both words and tears to send help without (going) himself, and so to save two lives in one.

The son of Aeacus (i.e. Peleus) (says) to her (i.e. Halcyone): set aside, (O) queen, your becoming and dutiful fears! I am full of gratitude for your promise (of assistance). (But) I do not want arms to be used against this strange monster; I must pray to the goddess of the ocean (i.e. Psamathe)." There was a high tower, a beacon on the top of the citadel; (it was) a welcome sight for tired ships. They climb up there, and look out, with a sigh, at the bulls strewn along the shore and the wild ravager with its bloody jaws and its long shaggy hair stained with gore.

Then, stretching out his hands towards the shores of the open sea, Peleus beseeches azure-coloured Psamathe to restrain her wrath and bring (him) help; (but) she is not persuaded by the words of the son of Aeacus entreating (her): (but) Thetis (as) a suppliant on behalf of her husband receives her pardon. But yet, even when called back from the savage slaughter, the wolf persists, maddened by the sweet taste of blood, until (the goddess) (i.e. Psamathe) changed (it) to marble, as it was clinging to the neck of a wounded heifer. All of its body stayed the same except for its colour: the colour of stone shows that it is no longer a wolf, (and) should no longer be feared. Yet, the fates do not allow Peleus to remain as a fugitive in this country (and) the wandering exile goes to the Magnesians (i.e. inhabitants of the Thessalian region of Magnesia), and there he receives expiation for his murder from the Haemonian (i.e. Thessalian) (king), Acastus (i.e. king of Iolcos, the Magnesian capital and a port on the Pelasgic Gulf).

Ll. 410-473.  The separation of Ceÿx and Halcyone.

Meanwhile, Ceÿx, his troubled heart disturbed by his brother's (fate) and the strange happenings that had followed his brother's (death), is preparing to go to the god at Claros (i.e. a town in Ionia between Ephesus and Smyrna, which was the location of an oracle, sacred to Apollo) to consult the sacred oracle, that source of consolation for men; for the impious Phorbas, together with the Phlegyans (i.e. a band of Thessalian robbers), had made the the temple at Delphi inaccessible.

But he tells you, (O) most faithful Halcyone, about his plan before (he goes); at once, the marrow of her bones felt a chill, and a pallor just like boxwood covers her face, and her cheeks are soaked with gushing tears. Three times she tried to speak, three times her face was wet with tears, and, with sobs interrupting her loving reproaches, she said, "What sin of mine has turned your mind, (O) dearest (one)? Where is that concern for me that used to come before (everything else)? Can you go away, leaving your Halcyone behind without a thought? Now does a long journey (really) please you? Am I now dearer to you (when I am) absent? But I suppose your journey is overland, and (so) I shall only grieve, and not also fear, for you, and my anxieties will be free from dread. The waters and the dismal face of the deep do terrify me: and I have recently seen wrecked timbers on the shore, and I have often seen tombs without a body. Do not let a false confidence fill your mind, because your father-in-law, the son of Hippotas (i.e. Aeolus, the king of the winds), is (the one) who keeps the strong winds imprisoned, and calms the sea, whenever he wishes! When once the winds are released, they hold sway over the waters, nothing is forbidden to them; and every land and every sea is exposed to them, they even vex the sky, and cause red lightning-flashes from their fierce collisions. The more I know of them - for I do know (them) and, when I was a child, I often saw (them) in my father's house - the more I think they are to be feared. But if your intention, dear husband, cannot be altered by any prayers (of mine), and you are so very fixed on going, (please) take me with you also. At least we shall (then) be tossed about together, nor shall I fear (something) unless I am (actually) experiencing it: and together we shall endure whatever will happen, (and) together we shall be borne over the wide seas."

Her star-born husband (i.e. Ceÿx, son of Lucifer) is moved by these words and tears of the daughter of Aeolus (i.e. Halcyone): for (the flame of) love burns no less within himself. But he does not wish to give up the sea-journey (he has) planned, nor to put Halcyone into any position of danger, and he responded to her anxious heart with many consoling (words). But yet he did not win his case on that account; (so) to these words he added this further solace, by which alone he prevailed upon his loving (wife): "Every delay will indeed seem long to us: but I swear to you by my father's (sacred) fires, that, as long as the fates shall send (me) back (to you), I shall return before the moon has twice completed her orbit."

When her hopes had been revived by these promises of his return, he immediately orders the ship to be brought down from the dockyard, launched in the sea, and fitted out with (all) its gear. Seeing this, as if she foresaw what was to come, Halcyone shuddered again, and shed a flood of tears, and she gave (him) hugs, and, in her utter wretchedness, at last she said, "Farewell," through her sad mouth, and (then) her whole body collapsed (from under her).

But, while Ceÿx was seeking (reasons for) delay, the young (crewmen), in two rows, draw their oars back towards their hardy breasts and cut the waves with even strokes. She raised her dripping eyes, and, leaning forward, she sees her husband standing on the rounded stern and giving her signals with his hand, and she returns the signals; when the land had receded further and her eyes could not make out his face, she follows the disappearing ship with her gaze, while she can. Even when that could not be seen, having been lost in the distance, she could still see the sails floating from the top of the mast-head; when she could see no sails, in her anxiety, she seeks her empty bedroom, and throws herself on to the bed; both the bed and the room renew Halcyone's tears and remind (her) of the one who is absent.

Ll. 474-572.  The tempest.

They had left the harbour and the breeze had stirred the rigging: the mariner draws his dangling oars up to the sides (of the ship), and arranges the ends of the sail-yards on the top of the mast, and unfurls all of the sails from the yard-beam and catches the coming breezes.

The ship was traversing the waves and (had) certainly (reached) no more than the mid-point (of the journey), or less (than that), and land was far off in both directions, when at nightfall the sea began to whiten with swelling waves, and the violent East Wind (began) to blow more strongly. The helmsman shouts, "Lower the tops of the sail-yards at once, and bind every sail beneath the yard-arms." He issues the orders: (but) the adverse storm-winds drown out his instructions, and the crashing of the sea does not allow his voice to be heard at all. Yet on their own initiative, some (of the crew) hasten to draw up the oars, some secure the side (of the ship), (while) others deny the sails to the winds. One man pumps up the waves (from the hold) and pours back the sea-water into the sea, another man carries off the yard-arms; while these (things) are being done without any direction, the storm increases in severity, and the ferocious winds launch their assaults from every quarter, and embroil the angry waves (in their fury).

The helmsman, himself, is fearful, and confesses that he does know what is the situation of the ship, nor what he should order or (what) he should prevent. Such is the weight of the disaster, and (it is) so much greater than his skill! Indeed, the men exclaim with shouts and the rigging creaks, (and,) with the onset of the waves, the sea (seems) menacing, (and so does) the sky with its crashes of thunder. The waves rise up, and the sea seems level with the sky, and to touch the overhanging clouds with its spray; at one moment, when its churns up yellow sand from its depths, it is the same colour as that, at another it is spread blacker than the waters of the Styx, and sometimes it turns white with hissing foam.   

This very Trachinian ship is driven by these vicissitudes, now lifted up high, as though it seems to be looking down from the summit of a mountain into the valleys and the depths of Acheron (i.e. the Underworld), now, when the boisterous sea engulfed (it as it was) sunk (in a trough), (it seems) to be looking up at the heights of the sky from an infernal abyss. When struck by a wave, the (ship's) side makes a huge crash, nor, (when it is) battered, is the sound any lighter than on those occasions when an iron ram or a ballista strikes a damaged fortress. And, just as fierce lions, having mustered their strength, are wont to go on the attack courageously against the armour and extended spears (of their hunters), so, when the waves let themselves loose in the rising winds, they reached the level of the ship's armoured shields, and went much higher than these.

And now the (wooden) wedges give way, and, stripped of their wax covering, cracks open up, and offer a passage to the lethal waves. Look, plentiful rain-showers fall from the melting clouds, and you would think that the whole of the sky was descending into the sea, and the swollen sea was ascending into the zones of the sky. The sails are soaked with rain, and sea-water mingles with water from the heavens; the firmament is without starlight, and the murky night is concealed by its own, and the storm's, darkness. However, flashes of lightning dispel this, and give light: (and) the rain becomes illuminated by the lightning flares.

Now the waves make leaps into the hollow fabric of the ship; and, just as a soldier, more outstanding than all the rest, when he has frequently sought to scale the walls of a besieged city, achieves his goal at last, and, fired with a love of glory, he takes possession of the wall, although (he is but) one among a thousand men, so, when the waves have battered the sides (of the ship) nine times, the assault of the tenth wave rushes on, swelling up more furiously (than before); nor does it cease to attack the beleaguered ship until it descends the walls of the conquered ship, so to speak. So, one part of the sea is still trying to take the ship, while another part is (already) inside (it). All are in a state of confusion, just as a city is wont to be confused, when some are undermining its wall from without, and others are taking possession of the wall from within.

Skill fails and courage sinks, and as many deaths seem to rush and burst upon (them) as the advancing waves. One man cannot hold back his tears, another is stupefied, and a third one cries out that (they are) blessed, whom (proper) burial rites await: one man entreats a god in prayer, and, lifting his arms in vain to the sky, which he cannot see, he begs for help, while a brother and a father, a home with his children, and whatever had been left behind, comes to the mind of another. (But) Halcyone (is what) moves Ceÿx, and nothing but Halcyone is on Ceÿx's lips, and, although he longs only (for her), yet he rejoices that she is not there. He would like to see the shores of his homeland once more, and to turn his last look towards his home, but he does not know where it is; the sea swirls with such a vortex, and the whole of the sky lies hidden beneath the shadows induced by the pitch-black storm-clouds, and the aspect of night is duplicated (during the day).

The mast is shattered by the onset of a stormy whirlwind, and the rudder is broken, and a final wave, like a conqueror bent on spoils, swells up and looks down on the (other) waves, as if some (god) should tear all of (Mount) Athos and (Mount) Pindus roughly from their foundations, and hurl (them) into the open sea, (so) it falls precipitously, and by its weight, together with the force of the impact, it thrusts the ship to the bottom; with it the majority of the crew met their fate, sunk in the depths of the abyss, never to return to the daylight: the rest of them cling to broken pieces of the vessel: Ceÿx, himself, holds on to a fragment of the wrecked ship with a hand, with which he was used to (holding) a sceptre, and he calls upon his father-in-law (i.e. Aeolus) and his father (i.e. Lucifer), (but) alas! in vain. But, mostly, (the name of) his wife Halcyone (is) on his lips as he swims. He both thinks of, and speaks to, her, (and) he prays that the waves should carry his body before her eyes, and that, lifeless, he might be entombed by her dear hands. While he can swim, (and) as often as the waves allow (him) to open (his mouth), he mentions the name of Halcyone, and it is murmured by the waves themselves. Look, a black arc of water breaks over the midst of the waves, and a bursting wave buries his drowning head.

Lucifer was dim that dawn, nor could you recognise him, but, since he was not permitted to leave the sky, he hid his face in thick clouds.

 Ll. 573-649.  The house of Sleep.

Meanwhile, the daughter of Aeolus (i.e. Halcyone), unaware of this great disaster, was keeping count of the nights, and she hastens (to weave) clothes which he can put on, and which she, herself, can wear, when he returns, and she gives herself hope of a vain return. Indeed, she offered pious incense to all the gods, but she worshipped mainly at Juno's temple, and she approached the altars on behalf of a man, who was no longer (there), and she longed for her husband to be safe and to return (to her), and to prefer no other (woman) to herself; but, of all her prayers, only this (last one) could be granted to her. 

But the goddess (i.e. Juno) could no longer endure being entreated on behalf of (a man) who had suffered death; and to protect her altars from those defiled hands, she said, "Iris, most faithful messenger of my words, go quickly to the soporific halls of Sleep, and bid (him) send Halcyone a dream(-figure) in the shape of the dead Ceÿx to tell (her) the disastrous truth."

She finished speaking: (then) Iris dons her robe of many colours, and, marking the sky with her bow-like curving (i.e. a rainbow), she seeks the palace of the king she was to instruct, (which was) concealed beneath a cloud.

There is a cave with a long recess near the (land of the) Cimmerians (i.e. a legendary people, said to live in caves in perpetual darkness somewhere beyond the North Wind), a hollow mountain, (which is) the home and sanctuary of listless Sleep: Phoebus (i.e. the sun) can never reach it with his rays, (whether) at dawn, at midday, or at sunset. Mists, mixed with fog, and the gloomy shadows of twilight, rise up from the ground. There, no watchful bird (i.e. a cockerel) summons Aurora (i.e. the dawn) with crowing noises from his crested beak, no dogs disturb the silence with their anxious barking, or a goose, more alert than dogs, (with its cackling). No beasts, no cattle, no branches stirred by the wind, or the sound of human tongues, are the cause of any clamour. (There) a mute stillness dwells; but from the stony depths there flows a stream of Lethean water (i.e. the Lethe was the River of Unmindfulness in the Underworld), by which, as it glides along, with its murmur, over the rattling pebbles, its waves invite sleep. In front of the cave's mouth, fertile poppies flourish, and countless herbs, from the juice of which the (goddess) Night gathers (the dew of) sleep, and, wet (as she is), she scatters (it) over the darkened earth.

(There are) no doors in the whole of the palace, lest a turning hinge should let out creaking noises, (and there is) no guard on the threshold. But in the centre of the cave there is a tall bed, made of ebony, downy, black in colour, covered with a dusky sheet, on which the god (i.e. Sleep) himself lies, his limbs relaxed in slumber. Around him in all directions, lie idle dreams, resembling different shapes, as many as (there are) ears of corn at harvest time, or as the trees bear leaves (or as) the shores (bear) grains of sand (which have been) thrown up.

As soon as the virgin (goddess) entered, and pushed aside with her hands the dreams (which were) in her way, the sacred palace blazed with the flashing light of her robe, and the god, scarcely able to lift his eyes, (which were) looking down with a sluggish heaviness, and falling back again and again, (while) striking the top of his chest with his nodding chin, at last shook himself free of himself; and, resting on an elbow, he asked (her) - for he did know her - why she had come. And she replied (thus): "(O) Sleep, repose of (all) things, (O) Sleep, gentlest of the gods, the peace of mind, from whom care flies, (you) who soothes the body, wearied by demanding duties, and who gets it ready for toil again, order dream(-images), which make imitations look like true forms, (and) let (one) go, in the image of the King (i.e. Ceÿx), to Halcyone at Hercules' Trachis, and let it depict a likeness of the wreck. This Juno commands." After she had completed her commission, Iris departs - for she was not able to withstand the power of sleep any longer - , and, as she felt sleep slip over her limbs, she flees and recrosses the arch by means of which she had just come.

Then, from the throng of his numerous sons, the father (i.e. Sleep) rouses Morpheus, a skilled craftsman and an imitator of the (human) form: in that place, no one else can express more cleverly the process, the features and the sound of speech. He turns his mind to the clothes and the usual accents of a man; but he only imitates human beings, while another (son) becomes a beast, or a bird, or a serpent with a long body: the gods call him Icelus, the mortal crowd Phobetor. There is also a third (son), of diverse skill, (called) Phantasos: he, deceptively, turns himself into earth, stones, rivers, and trees, all (things) which have no life; these (sons) are accustomed to show their faces at night to kings and generals, (while) the others wander around among the common people. Old Sleep passes them by, and chooses one out of all these brothers, (namely) Morpheus, to carry out the commands of the daughter of Thaumas (i.e. Iris), and, relaxing once more into gentle slumber, he lowered his head and buried (it) in his tall bed.

Ll. 650-709.  Morpheus goes to Halcyone in the form of Ceÿx.

He (i.e. Morpheus) flies through the darkness on wings that make no noise, and within a short space of time he comes to the Haemonian city (i.e. Trachis), and, laying aside the wings from his body, he is transformed into the shape of Ceÿx, and taking on a ghostly appearance, like (that) of a dead (man), he stood, without any clothes, beside the bed of his wretched wife (i.e. Halcyone): the man's beard seems sodden, and sea-water (seems) to flow from his soaking wet hair.

Then, bending over her bed with tears streaming down his face, he says these (words): "My poor wife, do you know your Ceÿx? Or has my face changed (so much)? Now, look at me! You will recognise (me), and find your husband's shade in place of your husband. Your prayers have brought me no help, Halcyone: I am dead! Do not give yourself any false hopes of my (return)! The stormy South Wind caught my ship in the Aegean sea, and tossed (her) in a mighty wind and wrecked (her), and the waves overwhelmed my lips, as they cried out your name in vain. No doubtful agent brings you this news, nor are you hearing this through vague rumours: having been shipwrecked, I myself am present in person to tell you of my fate. Get up, do (something), shed tears, put on mourning (clothes), and do not send me (down) to the voids of Tartarus, unlamented." Morpheus says these (words) in a voice, which she would believe were her husband's: he also seemed to be shedding real tears, and his hands exhibited Ceÿx's gestures.

Halcyone groans tearfully, and moves her arms about in her sleep, and, seeking his body, she grasps (only) air, and cries out, "Wait! Where are you rushing off to? We shall go together!" Roused by her own voice and her husband's image, she casts off sleep and at first she looks around (to see) if (the one) who had just been seen is (still) there: for her servants, aroused by her voice, had brought a lamp. When she does not find (him) anywhere, she strikes her face with her hands and tears the clothes from her breast, and she beats at her very breasts, nor does she bother to loosen her hair: (but) she tears (it), and shouts at her nurse who had asked what (was) the cause of her grief, "Halcyone is no more, she is no more! She has died, together with her Ceÿx! Away with any words of consolation! He has been lost in a shipwreck! I saw (him), and I recognised (him), and, wanting to hold on to (him), I stretched out my hands to (him) as he disappeared. It was a shade, but yet (it was) also my husband's true shade made manifest! True, he did not have his usual features, if you ask, nor did his face shine as before: pale and naked, and still with dripping hair, in my misfortune, I saw (him). Look, my wretched (husband) stood on this (very) spot!" - and she looks (to see) if any of his footprints remain. "This, this was (exactly) what I, with my prophetic mind, was afraid (would happen), and I begged (you) not to forsake me in order to chase the winds. But I certainly wished that you would take me (with you) too, since you were going to your death! How good it would have been for me to go with you: for (then) I should have spent no part of my life apart (from you), nor would death have separated (us). Now I have perished without being there, I am also tossed by the waves in my absence, and the sea possesses me without me. My mind would be more cruel than the sea itself, if I should try to lead my life any longer and should fight to overcome this great sorrow of mine. But I shall not fight, nor shall I leave you, my poor (husband), and now, at least, I shall come (as) your companion, and, if not the (burial) urn, yet the lettered (stone) will join us in the tomb: if not bones to my bones, yet I shall touch (you) name to name." Grief prevents any further (speech), and lamentation puts a stop to all discourse, and sighs are drawn from her stricken heart.

Ll. 710-748.  Ceÿx and Halcyone are turned into birds.

It was morning: she goes out of the palace towards the shore, and sadly seeks the place from which she had seen him go. And, while she lingers there, and while she says, "Here he loosed the hawser, (and) on this beach he kissed me as he left," and, while she recalls his noteworthy actions through the places (where they happened), and looks out to sea, she sees somewhere in the distance in the flowing water something rather like a body. At first, she was unsure what it was; when the tide brought (it) a little nearer, although it was (still) some way off, yet it was evident that it was a body. (Although she was) unaware who it was, she was moved by the portent, since (it was) a shipwrecked (man), and, as though she was shedding a tear for the unknown (man), she cries out, "Alas! poor (soul), whoever you are, and your wife, if you have (one)!" Driven by the waves, the body is brought nearer: the more she gazes at it, her courage shrinks and shrinks, (O) woe! And now (it has been) brought close to land, and now she sees (something) that she could recognise: it was her husband! "It's him!" she cries out, and she tears at her face, hair and clothes at the same time, and, stretching out her trembling hands to Ceÿx, she says, "(Is it) like this, O my dearest husband, (is it) like this, O (you) poor (fellow), that you return to me?" A breakwater, built by the hand (of man), adjoins the waves, and it breaks the initial force of the sea, and weakens the onrush of the tide. Although it was amazing that she could (do so), she leaps on to it: she flew, and, beating the gentle breeze with her newly fashioned wings, she skimmed the surface of the waves (as) a sorrowful bird. And, as she flies, her clacking mouth with its slender beak uttered a sound like a grieving (person) and (one) full of lamentation. But, when she touched the mute and bloodless corpse, she enfolded his dear limbs in her newly-formed wings, and vainly gave (him) cold kisses with her hard beak. People doubted whether Ceÿx felt this, or (just) seemed to raise his face through the movements of the waves, but he had felt (it): and, at last, through the pity of the gods, they are both changed into birds (i.e. halcyons, or kingfishers); (each was) exposed to the same fate, (and) then their love remained as well, nor, among these birds, was their conjugal bond loosened: they mate and become parents, and for seven calm days during the winter-time, Halcyone broods with her nest floating on the surface of the sea. During that time the waves of the sea lie (still): Aeolus locks up the winds and prevents (them) from leaving, and he grants his descendants a level surface of the sea. (N.B. This story is the origin of the legend of the so-called Halcyon days, i.e. the seven days which precede the Winter Solstice and the seven which succeed it, during which time the hen-kingfisher lays her eggs in a nest which she launches on the sea. During these Halcyon days, Halcyone's father, Aeolus, the King of the Winds, stops the winds from blowing, and a total calm ensues, thus allowing the nest to stay afloat, and the kingfisher's chicks to be hatched in it. For this reason, Halcyon days are reputed to be a time of peace and happiness.)

Ll. 749-795.  The transformation of Aesacus.

A certain elderly (man) watches them (i.e. Ceÿx and Halcyone) flying together over the wide sea, and praises the love (which they have) preserved to the end: (someone) nearby, or the same man, if chance should allow (it) - pointing to a long-necked diving bird - said, "That (bird), whom you can see skimming the sea, bearing his legs folded under (him), (is) also a descendant of royal (stock), and, if you seek his descent in an unbroken line to himself, his source is Ilus, and Assaracus, and Ganymede, snatched by Jupiter, and old Laomedon and (his son) Priam, (who was) assigned to Troy's last days; that (bird) was Hector's brother: if he had not experienced that strange fate in his early youth, perhaps he would have had no lesser name than Hector. Though the daughter of Dymas (i.e. Hecuba) bore the latter, Aesacus is said to have been born in secret to Alexirrhoë, the daughter of two-horned Granicus (i.e. the god of the River Granicus, the source of which was Mount Ida in Mysia) beneath the shadows of (Mount) Ida. 

He hated cities, and dwelt in the remote mountains and insignificant country (places) far away from the glittering court, and did not attend meetings in Troy except on occasion. Yet, not having an uncultivated heart nor (one) immune to love, he catches sight of Hesperia, the daughter of Cebren (i.e. the god of the River Cebren in the Troad), on (one) of her father's river-banks, while she was drying in the sun her hair (which was) spread over her shoulders. As soon as she is seen, the nymph flees, just as a frightened hind (flees) a tawny wolf, and a river duck, surprised far from the lake (she has) left behind, (flees) a hawk; the Trojan hero (i.e. Aesacus) pursues her, and he is swiftly beset with love, just as swiftly as (she is beset) with fear. (But) look, a serpent, concealed in the grass, has bitten the foot of the fleeing (girl) with its curved fang, and has left its poison in her body. Her flight is ended with her life: her lover clasps her lifeless (body), and cries out, "How I regret, how I regret that I followed you! But I did not fear that such (a thing) as this (would happen), nor was it worth so high a price as this for me to win (you). The two of us have destroyed you, my poor (girl): the wound was provided by the snake, the reason (for it) by me! (And) I shall be (even) more guilty than that (snake), unless I give you some consolation for your death by my own death."

(Thus) he spoke, and threw himself into the sea from a rock which the rough waters had worn away from underneath. Moved with pity, Tethys (i.e. goddess of the sea and the wife of Oceanus) caught (him) gently as he fell, and clothed him with feathers as he floated across the surface of the water, and the opportunity to choose his death was not granted to him. The lover is angry that he is forced to live against his will, and that his spirit is thwarted, (when) wishing to leave its unhappy abode, and, when he had received the new wings on his shoulders, he flies up and hurls himself into the sea once more. The feathers break his fall: Aesacus rages, and dives headlong into the deep, and keeps trying endlessly to (find) the way to death. His love makes (him) lean: the space between his leg joints (is) long; his neck remains long, (and) his head is far from his body; (but) he does love seawater, and he acquires his name because he dives into it (i.e. mergus, the diver or gull).